Chapter 31
"The coffee's gone cold. I’ll get another cup. Would you two like one too?” Aunt Beth’s voice broke the silence, and without waiting for an answer, she made herself scarce, leaving Colette and Matt alone in the eerily empty cafeteria. Colette couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. The reasons tangled in her mind—shame for hiding his phone when the fire broke out at one of his hotels, guilt for the damage she might have caused, and the heaviest of all, the acceptance that their marriage was truly over. How was she supposed to look at him and not think of him as her husband? But she knew she had to.
Matt’s voice was low, almost pleading. “Why didn’t you tell me, Itty, that your uncle was in the hospital? I would have come instantly.” He sat down in the chair Aunt Beth had just vacated, his expression both grim and sad. Colette wondered if he really would have come, but she didn’t reply. What was the point? She told him as much. “You shouldn’t have come here, Matt. I think it’s time we start telling people the truth. Once Uncle Steve gets better, I’ll tell them too.”
Matt’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Tell them about what?”
Colette stared at him, disbelief washing over her. “The truth, Matt. That we’re getting a divorce. Aunt Beth is going to throw a fit, but since I won’t be living with them again, it won’t matter. I suppose you’ll need time to tell your siblings too. Maybe next month when they’re on spring break…”
Her voice trailed off as she realized she was rambling, a desperate attempt to avoid the painful reality between them. She kept her eyes fixed on the coffee cup in her hand, terrified that one look at him would shatter the fragile resolve she had clung to. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, filled with the unsaid words and the bitter end of what happened when they last saw each other.
"I’ve asked Iris to leave," Matt blurted out, his face flushed with agitation. "For you, Itty! Only for you! Last week was hell, and I can’t live like this anymore—in this limbo, with you talking so casually about divorce. It scares the hell out of me! Do you know what it’s been like? Every night, I dread the cold, empty bed, and every morning, I wake up with a crushing emptiness when I don’t find you there. I can’t do this anymore." His voice broke, and he looked directly into her eyes, his red-rimmed gaze pleading with her. "Please, Itty, let’s end this and come home with me."
There was a raw pain and vulnerability in his voice that cut through Colette, leaving her shattered. But when she didn’t respond, Matt pressed on, desperation lacing his words. "She’s serving her two weeks' notice, and then she’ll be out of our lives for good. Isn’t that what you wanted, my love? For her to be gone? Well, she’s going, and now you can come home to me!"
His tone was almost triumphant, as if expecting gratitude for what he saw as a grand gesture. But beneath it, Colette sensed the subtle condescension, the belief that this was a favor to her—as if getting rid of Iris could somehow erase the deep fractures in their marriage.
Colette wished it were that simple. A month ago, when Matt had shown up at Zoe’s apartment, furious and desperate, threatening to drag her back home by her hair, she would have given anything to hear these words. She would have been ecstatic, the happiest woman alive, and would have leaped into his arms without hesitation. But now, it was too late. Too much had happened since then, and while not all of it was his fault, the damage was done. The wounds ran too deep to be healed by a single gesture, no matter how grand.
“Itty, listen to me…” Matt started, his voice strained with frustration. But Colette cut him off, her own voice trembling, “I think we need some space, I—”
They both stopped, their words colliding in the air, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between them. Matt’s face darkened as he realized where this was going, his agitation growing with each passing second. “I told Iris to leave. I thought that’s what you wanted. So, why won’t you come home?” His voice was rising, laced with anger and confusion, and Colette could see the hurt behind his eyes.
“It was what I wanted,” she admitted, her voice soft and pained. “But so much has happened since then, and—”
Matt’s expression twisted with frustration as he interrupted her. “So now that you’ve got me exactly where you want me, you’re just going to keep holding on to that power, aren’t you? Is that it? Now that you know I’m desperate enough to do anything to get you back, you’re going to make me pay for every single mistake? Is that what this is about?” His words were harsh, almost cruel, and Colette could feel the sting of them deep in her chest.
“No, Matt, that’s not it at all,” she tried to explain, but he didn’t let her finish.
“Oh, I understand it perfectly!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You’re going to sit in that godforsaken apartment with Zoe, hanging divorce over my head like a guillotine, making me jump through hoops to win you back. Is that it? Is that the game you’re playing?”
Colette recoiled at the accusation, feeling a mix of guilt and anger rise within her. She knew this wasn’t fair, that the situation was more complicated than that, but the intensity of his emotions left her struggling to find the right words. She didn’t know how to make him understand that this wasn’t about power or revenge; it was about the pain they had both caused each other, pain that couldn’t simply be undone.
Matt’s gaze bore into her, his anger barely contained, and for the first time, she felt a flicker of fear—not of him, but of the disgust she saw in his eyes, a disgust she had seen before, but never directed at her. The realization hit her like a blow: this wasn’t just about their marriage anymore. It was about the resentment he had harbored for years, the ghosts of his past that had finally caught up to them both. She had seen this angry and distrustful look in his eyes before, always directed at his mother Roxy.